‘How’s Mrs Yobatu bearing up?’
‘Okay. Brian asked her if she could account for the things we found. She said that she didn’t have a clue. All that she could say was that her husband was and had always been a man who put great store in honour.
Martin grunted his disapproval. ‘That’ll be a great source of comfort to lain MacVicar’s mother!’
As he spoke, Chief Constable Proud swept into the room, resplendent in full dress uniform and radiating authority. The Strathclyde detectives looked hugely impressed, almost bowing as they were introduced. Proud nodded to them, then turned to Skinner.
‘He’s not here yet, is he?’
‘Not yet, Chief. Let’s go out front to meet him.’
‘Yes, let’s be a welcoming committee.’ He bustled out, all epaulettes and silver braid, with Skinner and Martin following.
They stood behind reception for five minutes before Mackie’s car drew up at the main entrance. When he appeared in the hallway, the Inspector led an elderly, balding Japanese, and a tall man with a thin, sallow face and a dark moustache. They were dressed for the frozen North, in navy blue overcoats with a Savile Row look. Snowflakes melted on the dark cloth.
Proud shook the Ambassador’s hand, and nodded in Allingham’s direction. Shi-Bachi bowed slightly, and he and the Chief exchanged pleasantries as Proud led the way to his office. Skinner, following behind, attempted small-talk with Allingham. The man did not respond.
There was a pot of coffee on a tray on the big rosewood table in the Chief Constable’s office. Proud poured six cups and handed them round.
‘Well gentlemen, shall we get down to business. Bob Skinner has charge of this investigation, and enjoys my complete confidence; I suggest that he leads off.’
Shi-Bachi smiled and nodded his assent. He looked across the table towards Skinner, who put down his cup.
‘Thank you, Chief, and thank you, Your Excellency, for coming north so quickly to help us with this difficulty. Now, where shall I begin?’
To his astonishment, even as the Ambassador opened his mouth to reply, Allingham cut in, brusquely.
‘You can begin by telling His Excellency how a Japanese vice-consul, with full diplomatic immunity, comes to be locked up in your nick!’
Skinner turned on the man. He glared at him and said in a hard, even voice, ‘Listen here, Mister; Superintendent is it? I don’t know who the hell you are, I don’t know what the hell you are, and guess what, I don’t care about either! But I know where the hell you are. You’re on my patch, interfering with my investigation, with no locus or authority. So before go any further, you will go somewhere else with Mr Mackie, and make the Ambassador’s hotel arrangements. That’s what you’re here for. That will allow His Excellency and I to discuss this matter without interference. Brian, take this man away!’
Allingham looked to Proud for protection, but was met by silence and an angry glare. He turned back towards Skinner, blustering. ‘If that is what the Ambassador wishes... ’
‘It is.’ Shi-Bachi cut him short. The man flushed, but rose without another word and left the room, with Mackie on his heels.
Skinner turned back to address the Ambassador. ‘As I was saying, sir.’
Shi-Bachi nodded. ‘Now that my guard has gone,’ he said with a smile, ‘perhaps you would simply tell me why you believe that Yobatu san may have done these terrible things.’ He spoke in perfect, if slightly clipped English.
And so Skinner led him through the whole terrible story, beginning with the brutal murder of Yobatu’s daughter and ending with the man’s mental collapse earlier that evening. He missed no detail, and it was fully half-an-hour before his account was complete.
‘So, Your Excellency, you will see that we have the strongest evidence of Yobatu san’s guilt. But as a diplomat, even an honorary one, he cannot be prosecuted, or brought to account for himself in any way. He is known here as a respectable businessman. If he is simply declared persona non grata, people will want to know why. If the story should emerge there will be embarrassment, to say the least. How do you suggest that the matter should be settled?’
Shi-Bachi looked grave. And then, after deep thought, he said, ‘Let me see him. Let me try, at least, to speak with him. Then, as you say, we will sleep on it, and decide upon action in the light of the new day.’
Skinner nodded in agreement. ‘Then let’s go to the hospital.’
When they arrived at the Royal Edinburgh Hospital in Morningside, they were directed to a first-floor room. A uniformed policeman stood outside the door.
Inside, a second constable sat facing the bed on which Yobatu lay. His wife was at his bedside. The woman rose to her feet the moment the Ambassador entered, preceding Skinner, Proud and Martin. She bowed in respect. Shi-Bachi, smiling, walked to her. He spoke softly in Japanese and pressed her gently back into her seat.
Yobatu lay propped up by pillows, staring fixedly at a point on the wall. Shi-Bachi leaned over him and spoke clearly in Japanese. There was no reaction.
‘I am sorry, gentlemen,’ he said to the policemen. ‘For your convenience, I will speak in English.’
He turned again to face the bed. ‘Yobatu san, you know me well.
‘You have been accused of terrible crimes. Do you have any defence, or any answer to these charges?’ His tone was stem, but it brought no movement, no reaction of any kind.
Shi-Bachi repeated his question, louder the second time. But Yobatu continued to stare at his piece of wall.
The Ambassador looked at the man for some time. He placed himself in his line of sight. Still Yobatu did not react, or move a muscle. Shi-Bachi turned to the group of policemen.
‘We have a problem, you and I. Let us go away to think about it.’
They left the hospital in silence. Skinner drove Shi-Bachi to the Caledonian, one of the two massive hotels which stand like bookends at either end of Princes Street. A subdued Allingham met them in the foyer. They arranged to meet at Fettes Avenue at 9.30 a.m. next day.
Skinner arrived at Sarah’s flat just five minutes before midnight. She met him at the front door. ‘Bob, you look exhausted. What a day you must have had. Come on, let’s not bother with a night-cap. Let’s go to bed.’
As they undressed in silence, Sarah looked beneath the tiredness, and saw that Skinner the detective was still mentally at work.
‘Come on then, darling, tell me what’s wrong.’
‘I’m not exactly sure. I have a feeling that I’m going to lose this guy to the Japanese, and that’s eating at me. But there’s something else, too. It’s been niggling away since the start, and I can’t nail it down.’
‘Look, Robert, you’ve got the right man, yes?’
‘Look at the evidence. And he as good as admitted it before his mind went on its holidays.’
‘Then does it matter whether he spends the rest of his life in a secure mental hospital here, or in one in Japan. Because that’s the likely outcome, as Kevin O’Malley would tell you right now, if you really pressed him.
‘It matters to me that people know that we’ve caught him, that they can feel safe again. That’s what really matters.’
‘Then that’s your deal with the Japanese. They can have him without protest, but the story is told.’
‘My lovely Doctor, you are too sensible for your own good. Come here.
‘Skinner, you must be joking! Sleep - now!’
And almost instantly, involuntarily, he obeyed.
37
The meeting with Shi-Bachi and Allingham took place once more in Proud Jimmy’s fine, oak-panelled office. Tea was served in delicate china cups, and two plates of MacVitie’s chocolate digestive biscuits, obligatory at such meetings, even at 9.30 a.m., were placed on the highly polished table, around which seven men sat.